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pence. It is one of health or pestilence—one of plenty or scarcity—one of doing what is right of our own accord, because it is right, or of being compelled, by troubles which we have brought upon ourselves, to undo what we have been doing for half a century, and finding, to our great disgust and humiliation, that we have expended countless treasures on an absurdity, and only sunk deeper into the mire every flounder which we made in the midst of our abominations. Every sewer which we construct pollutes some stream, every stream flows into some river, and every river sends up a pestilential exhalation, which decimates our population, by zymotic diseases, and sows the seed of future maladies in thousands who are unconscious of its immediate effects. Had the last climax of unpleasantness not offended the noses of our legislators in the Houses of Parliament assembled, even London itself would probably have talked in vain against a condition of the Thames by no means worse than many of our provincial rivers. But the prodigious sewers now in process of construction are merely putting off the evil day a little longer, or rather destroying the salubrity of one neighbourhood for the benefit of those who can afford to pay for individual advantages; but this system cannot go on for ever. It reminds me of a late learned gentleman who proposed to get rid of some inacademic rubbish by digging a hole for it, and burying it; on being pressed then as to what should be done with what came out of the hole, he answered that he would dig another hole for that! Now, the only difference between the two ideas is, that the present system of sewage reaches to the sea, which being of unlimited extent, is supposed to be a final method of getting rid of our rubbish. But this is very far from being the real state of the case; the tide bringing back its disagreeable burthen, and destroying in a most complete manner the healthfulness of the sea breeze, and the purity of the water for bathing purposes. I say nothing about the odours which concentrated putrefaction must necessarily generate, for I do not come here as a defender of romantic rambles among the cliffs, or the pursuits of the naturalist. I simply ask John Bull, before he spends his hard-earned money, whether he is not about to pay too dear for his whistle? There is no lack of opportunities of spending money to the public advantage, ergo, why spend it on a humbug? Is it not evident that the present system of universal selfishness is one of universal destruction? No man is safe from typhoid diseases, while every large city in the empire is bisected by a current of the most unwholesome description. But I will be told there is no remedy for this state of affairs; people are doing the best they can, and must put up with inevitable evils! More is the pity! for it is quite clear that every extension of the present system makes matters inevitably worse! The more thoroughly and efficiently it is carried out, the worse are the results, because the system is fundamentally and radically unsound. This must be first admitted before any remedy is possible, for it is quite plain that a contrary idea would be fatal to any real improvement. But I may be met with a tu quoque argument, and told that other systems are just as bad, and that, therefore, nothing is to be done. This I deny; but even were it true that no results can be brought forward to establish the superiority of any other plan, we
